Becoming Butler
by P.S. Sword
Summary: I feel that there is not enough stories about Butler and the academy, this is my attempt at remedying that. Chap.3; Routines
1. Chapter 1

Becoming Butler

Disclaimer: Any recognisable characters, places or events belong to Mr. Colfer and not this awkward highschooler

Authors note 1: First try at a fanfic so heaps of feedback and critiquing will be appreciated, if this has any interest then I will try to upload at regular intervals.

Authors note 2: As wildly incorrect as this is, the story is set in modern times, mostly because I don't know anything about life in the eighties (or whenever Butler was a child, if he ever was a child) and sorry if any of this seems too OC for you guys, feel free to comment your thoughts.

Chapter 1

The Butler legacy was an elite and esteemed heritage that had since birth been thrust upon young Domovoi. Before his first birthday when he was first able to stand un-aided he was taught to run, by his second there were daily push-up and sit-up regimes, at three the boy had started basic karate and by four he was onto his second degree brown belt. At the age of five it was agreed that he should spend six months from May to October each year shadowing his uncle and grandfather at Fowl Manor, learning fitness and discipline and doing minor jobs. Now on the eve of his tenth year Domovoi was fluent in four languages and adequate in an additional three, he was competent at multiple martial art disciplines, able to light a fire with nothing more than a stick of gum and a cufflink, and had reached a level of physical fitness unheard of in a child that age, yet for all the skills Domovoi had he still felt unprepared for the coming dawn.

The luminous glow of the clock face showed 3:47, Domovoi knew because he had been staring at it for the past couple of hours. Sleep eluded him due to what he could only describe as a black hole in the pit of his stomach, slowly sucking everything in, giving a sense of negative emptiness. If that was even possible he wouldn't know since physics was never his strong point in class but that was how he felt. Hollow, void. Scared. At 5:30 his uncle, 'The Major' Butler, would drive him to the airport and send him into the unknown. Into the harsh embrace of Madame Ko's Bodyguard Academy, a rite of passage and necessary qualification for all males of the Butler bloodline. Even though the boy was more apprehensive than he had ever felt before Domovoi knew the importance of rest, especially as he was unsure when he would next get his opportunity to sleep in such comfort. After giving up nodding off the natural way, the boy swallowed a painkiller dry and let it carry him off on the sandman's shoulders.

All he could hear was the steady crescendo of the Peer Gynt suite, he thought it ironically fitting for an alarm. After fumbling around for the off switch Domovoi promptly jumped up, fighting the drowsiness, and made his bed to the military standards enforced by his family. After a quick shower the boy found himself standing before the bedroom mirror. He inspected the reflection, close-cropped dark straight hair, navy round eyes, angular face, broad shoulders, toned abdominals. It looked like the same boy that went to bed the night before and Dom couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed by the lack of change. However the moment was interrupted by a rough knock on the door. "You up yet boy?" asked his uncle from the hallway. This was not a question but a warning, that if he wasn't in the car and belted up in the very near future, there was going to be hell to pay. He didn't bother responding and instead dressed and grabbed the duffel, containing only the essentials that had been pack for weeks out of anticipation, rushing to get in the car before his uncle. Car was really quite an understatement, The 2013 Fowl Bentley Mulsanne was more of a piece of engineering art and did not disserve a name as crude as a 'car', although it should really be called 'The 2013 Butler Bentley Mulsanne', as he doubted any Fowl has even touch a steering wheel. The ride to the airport was short and quiet, the Major not being a talkative character and Dom too wound up to initiate conversation. The trip through Ireland International was similar and before the boy knew it he was standing at the gate. "Well boy, I should think that you will be quite different when you get back. So work hard and good luck, I'm sure you will do fine." That was strangely sentimental for the Major and if situations were different, Domovoi would ask what had gone wrong to result in a comment like that. Not wanting to lose control of his stony façade, Dom replied with a simple; "Yes uncle." He watched the older man nod, turn on his heels, and leave.

Eighteen hours and three flight changes later Domovoi now sat in the back of a modified Cessna-172, similar to the one at the manor albeit more budget and long past its prime. He was somewhere over South America and all he could see below was the dense canopy of the Amazon rainforest. Beside him sat a boy of thirteen, Kale. He had joined Dom in New York and was more than willing to express how easy this course would be compared to the 'stuff' he had done with his father. "My father is a member of the US Navy Seals and he has taught me heaps about survival and combat, he thought I should do this course for credibility if I wanted to get a job in the forces but I know everything already. I'm the best in my class at Phys. Ed. And won awards for camping and sports, I shouldn't need to be here…." Eventually Kales boasting droned into the background noise with the engine and static from the cheap radio as Domovoi continued to think, something the youngest Fowl would be sceptical of. Part of his mind wanted to believe his new acquaintance and that he will find the school a walk in the park. The rest found Kale complacent, vain and delusional. The roar of the single engine lessened as the throttle was released and a lighter green strip appeared through the deep olive. 'Flaps down' Dom thought, remembering his lessons about the control of aircraft, and as if on cue the pilot moved the lever for the first degree of flap. The makeshift runway was crude and the passengers of small plane could feel every bump, root and pothole on the grass. Upon exiting the aircraft primitive mud huts were made visible dotting the outskirts of the clearing. The Pilot spoke no words but pointed in the direction of one with smoke lazily rising out. Domovoi shouldered his bag hand headed the way indicated, behind Kale who purposefully strided ahead. All of the surroundings were green and seemed to taunt the young Butler as he was cruelly reminded of the Emerald Aisle, and how far he was from home.

Wow sorry that was quite slow, but I hope the next chapters will have more action and pace. Please tell me how you feel and lets have a little reward, if you comment then you get to suggest names for characters, deal?

See you soon hopefully,

P.S. Sword


	2. Chapter 2

Authors note: Hey Readers! I have had some good reviews and some awesome feedback from my favourite writer on this site, WolfButler, so here I am as promised continuing the story.

Chapter 2

Kale continued towards the shack at a pace Olympic power-walkers would appreciate, obviously wanting to be there first. Well he needn't worry about competition Dom thought, as he was in no hurry to start the course. Too many horror stories from his older relatives, he had laughed at the time but now in the middle of the Amazon with no means of communication the doubts started to creep up on him. He puffed out his chest and continued onwards, refusing to let his thoughts get the better of him he was a Butler of course, thoughts and Butler in the same sentence? Master Artemis would scoff.

He entered the hut through a curtain that served as the door. The interior smelt exactly the way you would expect a mud hut with a furnace in it would, like burnt dirt, not particularly offensive but definitely unpleasant. It was furnished with a flimsy desk, manned by a local guy filling in a roster and a chair that occupied a small elderly Japanese woman. Domovoi felt disappointed with the figure in the chair, she was little more than a wrinkled face perched upon a slim frame hidden beneath a brown shawl. Surely this was not the fabled Madame Ko? He always envisioned her as a woman similar to his great aunt Darya, a stout woman who dressed in her late husbands clothing and looked as though she wrestled bears for entertainment. This woman seemed more suited to knitting sweaters than training bodyguards. However, the trademark bamboo cane rested on her lap, there was no question.

That entire survey took the Butler in training exactly 3.27 seconds to carry out in its entirety and he had concluded in that time that the only reasonable escape route was back through the curtain, although if needed he could probably bust through the wall. Not that he should need to escape. "Name, age and origin." The man at the desk stated without raising his head. As expected Kale had to be first to speak, "My name is Kale Heath I am thirteen years old and I live in Tampa which is a city in Florida my-" His introduction was cut short by a sudden 'crack' of bamboo hitting skin and a red line appearing along Kale's nose. "You've answered question now no more words!" The once frail old lady sitting in the shadows of the room was now poised on the balls of her feet, her cane raised above her head ready for a second strike if needed. But her target was not daft enough to argue with the lady holding a weapon, instead he stood silently with a stunned expression frozen on his face. The Brazilian man at the table looked at Dom expectantly as though nothing had happened. "Butler, Domovoi, ten, Dublin, Ireland." He answered, not daring to say a single word more than necessary. The admin person stood up and handed each boy a dog-tag on a chain. "Some information before the course starts; your ability is measured by ranks, as first years you are ranked number twelve. You go up a rank when you pass an exam, taken if an instructor sees fit. If you are of first rank and you pass your exam, then you earn your diamond. All those of a higher rank than you demand respect regardless of age, race or gender. If you boys want to toe the line we will ensure that you do not get those urges again. Clear?" neither trainee replied, "Good. In your cabins you will find the equipment that you will be using for the remainder of the course, leave your current belongings here and they will be searched for contraband and returned to you at a later, undisclosed date." The two boys dropped their bags at their feet and Dom felt suddenly vulnerable without his trusted gear. The man looked down and scanned his sheets for a second, "Heath, cabin nine. Butler, cabin 15." The boys lingered in the musty hut for a second unsure if there would be any more instructions, but Domovoi decided to leave when he saw Ko's grip tighten slightly on the cane. Upon exiting he heard another sharp crack and couldn't help but chuckle at the once confident boy who scurried off in the opposite direction. Upon closer inspection he could see that his new tag had twelve indentations in the metal in order to show rank, he slipped it over his head and felt its cool surface over his chest serving as a reminder that he had a long way ahead for the tattoo.

The field was roughly the size of a football pitch and most of it was taken up by the landing strip. In the small area Dom had little difficulty finding Cabin 15, although the word 'Cabin' was a little generous for the corrugated metal roof held up by a pole on each corner and walled in by sheets of canvas. Inside it was dark and musty meaning important environment survey time was consumed by his eyes adjusting. Before him was a muscular teenager with spikey fair hair and large round glasses, he was squatting on a thin camping mattress while rummaging through a rucksack. When he noticed the new arrival he clambered onto his feet and offered his hand for a shake. "Simon." Dom took the hand and responded, "Domovoi."

The teen, Simon, motioned for Dom to sit by him on the foam slab. "So, you're the new twelvie? Honestly I expected worse, the sight of you is actually sort of relieving." Simon remarked looking Dom up and down. "Relieving?" The boy replied, confused by what this teenager had said. "Oh, when I was told that I would be chaperoning a twelvie, a new trainee who has a rank twelve, I was imagining a kid awkwardly bumbling around trying not to get themselves killed! But you look as though you've got some skills and common sense." He exclaimed laughing, "I was shit scared expecting to pick up some serious slack!" Dom smiled interpreting that as a compliment. "So this is the camp for the rest of the course?" Domovoi inquired. "No idea, doubt it though. It's a bit too luxurious for Ko." He said while motioning around the dark little tent. The boys spent the next two hours setting up their kits and getting to know each other. He learnt that Simon was seventeen and had a rank of six, he started the academy at twelve and although he was of Finnish descent he had lived his whole life in Hawaii.  
As Dom lay on the anorexic mattress observing a moth crawl along the ceiling he heard a klaxon sounded in the distance. "Ooh we're starting, get up twelve." Simon said as he rolled up a wall, letting the morning sunlight enter. Allowing for the time difference Dom assumed it would be near 10:30am and was grateful he finally caught some Z's somewhere over the Atlantic. He brought himself to his feet and headed out into the Amazonian morning.

All the acolytes were expected to line up according to rank, there were 32 of them total and Dom was obviously the youngest and the shortest by more than a head. He stood by Kale at the end of the line while Simon found a spot further up the row, they all stood with their feet together and their arms at their sides not daring to slouch. Not that Dom ever slouched, he had learnt that lesson years earlier but he dared not let his mind wander back to the week long punishment entailing a wooden pole strapped along his spine, lest he lost concentration and was whipped by the cane carried by the woman now pacing along the row before them. "The course has begun, when you leave you will find your equipment replaced with a bag of necessities. On top of that bag will be navigation supplies and directions to a new campsite, any trainees not at the campsite before civil twilight will be spending the night in the jungle. All of you are dismissed, except Butler." The other acolytes filtered off to their individual shacks until Dom was standing alone afore the woman. She stood at an entire head shorter than him but seemed more imposing than an army of geese, and Dom had secretly feared those birds ever since they had attacked him at St. Stephens Green as a toddler. Not that he would ever disclose that. "I have a special task for you Butler." The woman continued and from a satchel she produced a large lump of granite. "This is Private Rock, I would like you to take care of this new recruit throughout the duration of this semester. If I wish to see Pvt. Rock then you must bring him to me. Pvt. Rock must be taken on all exercises if you wish to graduate. If I see that he is in a bad condition, then there will be consequences. If you forget him then there will be consequences, if he is lost, damaged or dies you will be sent home. Dismissed." And with that she strode off without a second glance leaving him alone in the field. Dom looked down at the ore in his hands, it was about the size of a rock melon but weighed at least ten kilograms. "Well Private, if you slack off I will have your butt." He said trying to make a joke of the situation, while in reality his stomach dropped at the realisation that his entire future relied on him successfully carrying this extra weight around for the next six months.

"Simon I would like to introduce you to the newest member of our unit, this is Pvt. Rock and he will be accompanying us until the end of the course." Dom said as he held out the stone to his partner. "No time for that now, I will laugh at you while we are on the move. Shoulder you pack and get a move on." "What's the hurry?" the boy asked as he pulled the straps of a battered rucksack on, the bag seemed overly heavy but Simon's urgent tone stopped him from taking the time to check its contents. "The hurry is that we have to cover seventy kilometres in six hours through a jungle track. I checked the map and the only way to make it on time is to have a consistent pace, preferably a steady jog. I will explain on the move."

"So explain the rock." Simon demanded as they jogged along a derelict path. Dom repeated the speech had been given by Madame Ko and waited for a response. He didn't have to wait long because almost immediately after Simon burst out in laughter. "Wow." He said between breaths as he vainly fought for composure. "That's actually kinda funny, sucks to be you." The boy felt offended by this response but did not want to seem weak to his new companion. "Don't worry kiddo, I will look out for Pvt. Rock. Make sure he eats his veges and stuff. When your arms get tired hand him over, and don't act all macho I don't want to get to camp with a teammate who can't lift his hands above his head because the idiot was too proud to hand the bloody rock over." The older boy looked down at Dom with a grin. "Don't worry about it, we all look out for each other out here 'cause we would be in the shit if we didn't." They continued to move down the track alone. "Where are all the other trainees?" Dom asked. "Here pass the private over and look at the map. We are somewhere along the green line heading southeast." The thin plastic showed a detailed depiction of the area complete with contour lines and a key for the terrain. There were coordinates written on the top corner that corresponded to the grid overlaying the picture. ' _H-12',_ On the map it was a non-distinct area of trees. "Our landing site was in B-2, there are multiple possible routes but I chose to follow the track. It may not be the shortest but it is the flattest, yields the least resistance and is safer than bush-bashing through an unknown area filled with countless dangers." Simon's logic made sense to the Butler and although he agreed with the choice the boy decided to throw in some playful banter in-case Simon was the kind of person whose head inflated when complimented. "True, but we are travelling twice as far as any other team." "I thought you looked like the kind of kid who could handle the distance." The elder rebutted to the other's amusement. Both boys laughed but they were soon silent, knowing that they would need to conserve their breath in order to last until the destination. Eventually all they could hear was the monotonous 'thud' of their boots hitting the track and the constant drone of insects. Although he had disliked it at the time, Dom was thankful for the long series of shots that he had been injected with over the past year as vaccinations for all potential illnesses that would be encountered.

Four hours and fifty-two kilometres later the duo were running out of breath and had deep welts impressed into their shoulders from the weight of their packs. Both acolytes slowed to a halt. "Hey Si, I'm bursting for a piss." The young Butler crudely panted. "Yea I get'cha, were well on schedule so we can take fifteen." Simon said looking at the cheap mickey mouse watch on his wrist. "Why do you even have that piece of crap Simon? It's for, like, six year olds." "Yeah but it does its job and I don't give an arse if it ends up broken or lost." He yelled out towards the area of trees that Domovoi just disappeared into. As the boy unzipped his fly he heard a weak laugh from the track. He returned to see Simon sipping from a tin bottle still chuckling to himself. "What's up?" Dom asked, "Ko, the bastard. Check your pack." He opened the bag to reveal a canteen similar to the one Simon was drinking out of, some glucose powder and a bag of scroggin. Underneath the rations were a pile of stones and the Butler tipped the bag upside down to empty the unnecessary weight. "Well Private, I think we have found the rest of your squadron." Simon stated, still giggling to himself. The teenager then too emptied the pack and headed off to find a tree. Dom found a mostly dry spot on the ground and refuelled, listening to the ambient noises of rainforest. The nuts were soft and the ground was covered with insects trying to get into his trouser legs but it was the most comfortable Domovoi had been today, so he savoured the moment however the sudden screaming and crashing of Simon falling through a shrub abruptly ended Dom's moment of peace. "Christ Si what's up with you?" He said to the teen untangling himself from the bush with his pants around his ankles. "Centipede on my dick." Was the flustered reply, "Anyway we better get going again. I hope you made sure that Pvt. Rock is properly hydrated." Simon said wryly while buttoning up his cargos. Dom stood up, shouldered the considerably lighter pack and resumed the run.

The light was steadily dimming and Dom was getting anxious that they would not make it in time as they had no equipment for a night in the jungle. His throat was dry, his head pounded and his legs throbbed from the marathon yet he continued the pace. They guessed that the camp was just under a kilometre away so he only had to hold out for another few minutes. Eventually the trees thinned and he could see lights between the trunks. Finally! The only obstacle the boys had between here and the camp was… A steep bank with a five metre drop. Simon shook his head, "Of course, because todays task had been so easy." He said, drawing out the 'so' for emphasis. "Thanks for your input Si, but sarcasm isn't going to get us down this cliff." Dom remarked failing to hide his irritation. "Chill kiddo, all we need to do is get to the bottom of the hill, I mean if Jack and Jill could do it why can't some super fit, talented and attractive bodyguards in training?" As inspirational Simon speech was, Domovoi was not reassured. "You know they both cracked their skulls open, right?" but his snark was not heard as the older boy was busy forcefully kicking a tree. "Your head okay there? Or did that Kapok tree just insult your mother?" He asked his seemingly delusional partner. Once the bark started splintering the teen dug his fingers in until he ripped out a slab of bark the size and shape of a serving platter. "Here." He said and passed the wooden sheet over, "We are going to slide down the hill." The teen then peeled off a similar slab and moved toward the bank. Dom wasn't sure if the other boy was being serious or not but as Simon disappeared over the lip he too prepared to slide down. He sat on the bark as it teetered over the edge then leaned forward. The ride was actually a bit of an anticlimax, the makeshift sled stuck to the damp clay and although the bank was steep, he moved at hardly more than a snails pace. The friction made comically loud 'squelching' noises and he almost felt embarrassed as he dismounted at the bottom. His accomplice stood before him covered in mud looking extremely pleased with himself. "I leaned over trying to add speed, instead the bark stuck and my momentum threw me off." He said sheepishly in reply to the questioning look on Doms face. "Ladies!" A loud voice shouted in their direction. Dom turned round to see a large bald man with a distinctly crooked nose stand over him. "Congratulations on making it to camp, come over to our fire where we have a fine hot meal prepared, as reward for the trainees." The mans words were encouraging but were contradicted by his aggressive tone. "Yes sir, mister Varley-Penrose sir." Simon addressed but as they followed the instructors lead Domovoi noticed his partner's weary expression. They neared a large bonfire that was surrounded by large leaves covered in various pieces of charred meat. "Oh look dinner is already prepared and ready for eating, but none of the others have made it yet, there is only half an hour until the deadline so I expect they will be joining us soon. But I think its rather rude to start without the other guests, don't you? So how 'bout you two get into a plank position while we wait for the others. Since Pvt. Rock has no arms he can rest on your back, Butler, throughout the exercise." The instructor barked. Both boys dropped their packs and lay down on the damp earth, as they lifted themselves into position their bodies immediately started burning as a result of the continuous exercise that day. The pain only intensified as the blasted rock was placed on the small of Doms back. "Oh and by the way, if either of you break that position I will throw your medium-rare monkey into the fire.

How did you guys find that? I feel like it was a bit off, so I'm interested to hear your thoughts.

I get that Butler is massive, like 210cm, but I like the idea of him being the little one in the beginning before 'the famous Butler growth spurt'

Just some info from the chapter: The fastest time someone has run a marathon (42km) in is 2hrs but that was in a reasonable climate with drink stalls so I think our protagonists were pretty on the mark. The reason that they were given kit and got settled at the beginning only to be told they were moving again is because Ko was making the point that they shouldn't get comfortable and learn to expect, not just the unexpected, but all possible scenarios. There happens to be a conveniently placed track through the middle of the jungle as it was going to be used as a logging road until the deforestation company went bankrupt, or something like that.

Looking forward to hearing what you guys think,

P.S. Sword


	3. Chapter 3

Authors Note: Wow, long time no update. Sorry guys but I need a serious boot up the bum to really get any work done but in all honesty the story really isn't that near the top of my priority list. However just had my last week of school and after that my exams finish end of November (Don't know why I'm telling you my current life situations..but hey I'm gonna keep going) Then its summer holidays until February (southern hemisphere chumps) so I will definitely get some more work out there….eventually.

More notes (Boo hurry up and get on with the story): I expect this chapter to be very different to any other Butler-centric fics. Why? You probably aren't asking; because I felt like dabbling in first person narrative 'cause I'm pretty keen to test out some inner monologue. (Dan McEvoy Plugged and Screwed) So you have been warned.

Yet even more notes (But these ones are important!): As I have mentioned before I am a big fan of some other Butler-based writers, Wolfbutler and Steinbock. Wolfbutler and Steinbock conspire together to tell the important, and often overlooked, stories of our favourite big bald Eurasian bodyguard, and they have been awesome and granted me permission to borrow characters from their stories, disclaimer recognisable characters belong to those guys. So now I will let you start reading the actual story and would recommend that you check out their work if you are liking this and have not yet.

It was dark. I could tell because I couldn't see _. 'You're a regular Sherlock Holmes aren't you Dom'._ I sat up and tried to make out the various shapes in the tent; the faint sliver of light where the bloody flap never shuts completely, the neat pile of folded fatigues in the corner ready to be donned at first light, the heavy leather boots that would clearly as a mirror reflect light (If there were any) and the rhythmic rising and falling of the silhouetted lump against the aforementioned faulty tent flap. It was our sixth night since our arrival in the camp, after most of the other groups came and primate was eaten we had minutes to erect our shelters before it became too dim and so the result was shabby at best, however it was definitely better than what the teams who arrived too late slept in.

"M.I.C.K.E.Y. M.O.U.S.E." I sung out in a cheerless voice, the lump stirred and in a groggy voice spoke;

"Five O' three."

"Twenty minutes to PT [1]. Not much point going back to sleep then, we would wake up more tired than we are now." I responded.

"No" The lump responded sarcastically, "It would be _so_ counter productive for us to still be sleeping at this time."

Even so, the mound shed its layer of blankets to reveal the blonde head of my partner. We both dressed in silence, awkwardly fumbling around blind, searching for the correct holes and sleeves to get our various appendages into. Even though lacing up combat boots in the dark is a bitch we couldn't risk using the torches, batteries were sparse and needed to be conserved. There was a black market circulating around camp, trading supplies for the front of meal queues, other equipment or, in desperate cases, physical favours to put it in the most tasteful way. Simon and I had decided against risking our provisions or our dignity and as a consequence were extremely frugal with our use of electricity. The seemingly simple task of dressing ended up taking the same length of time in the dark as it would've to wait for dawn and dress then, as a result we did not end up with any free time before the siren signified the assembly for the morning PT session. As we both exited the tent, rock in hand, into the waxing sunrise I noticed that Simons shirt buttons were unevenly buttoned so one side of his collar was higher than the other. Additionally, I also noticed that the crotch of my pants was unusually tight and looked down in horror to see the rear pockets of my cargos seeing as they were put on backwards. ' _Could be worse boy.'_ I thought _. 'They could be tight yet be on they right way. I bet that would make a fun session with the instructors, showcasing your tent making skills for a second time this week'._

The clearing area was smaller and dustier than the initial landing site with tents of varying quality clustered in the southern end. Daily PT sessions were to be held within a dirt patch in the centre of the field. I could see the other acolytes filtering out of their accommodation garbed in the same khaki uniform as I was with their faces showing differing degrees of exhaustion, from morning grogginess to arriving from the set of the _walking dead. 'Well I had read in the entertainment section of my in-flight magazine that zombies are in this year.'_ [2] I tailed Simon to the seventh square of hell as it had been dubbed, due to the severe pain dealt out and a reference to how bloody hot it gets, and took my spot at the front end of the phalanx [3] next to Kale, unfortunately.

"Good morning BUTT-ler." He jeered.

The name did offend me, but only for the first hundred times I had heard it in primary school and really it just made him seem horribly childish. I glanced up at him, since he was a head taller, to see him looking pathetically happy with the remark. I raised a single eyebrow with a 'congratulations on your _extremely_ clever word play with my name.' look and simply stated; "Isn't it. Spinach." _'Stooping down a bit aren't you.'_ Yes, responding to his comment was low enough let alone meeting his insult, but his irked expression was almost worth it. Almost being the operative word from that sentence as my uncle would swiftly belt me across the head for such a juvenile dig. Although Kale was the only other Twelve on the course and the closest in age we didn't get along very well, to put it lightly. To put it honestly we couldn't stand each other and clashed horribly. To be cliché, he talked the talk while I walked the walk. In lessons I out matched, out did and, if I dare say, out classed him in every aspect. Not that I would ever admit to thinking that.

"Welcome to morning aerobics girls. I think today we shall start with a light warm up to get the blood pumping, one hundred push ups!" Each day the instructors rotated for taking the morning session, the only time where all trainees are ever in the same place. This morning it was an ex-military, as they all seem to be, who looked like someone stuck old Jim Carrey's head onto young Arnold Schwarzenegger's body. Except Swedish. Villard Ekstrand found particular entertainment in alluding to this academy being a holiday retreat, tents were '5-star accommodation' and hikes were 'nature appreciation walks', the joke was that you appreciated them when they were over. I had reached the forties and my biceps and pectorals were begging to stop however I bit my lip and continued, knowing punishment for giving up or complaining would be even more painful. Second day in and I was introduced to the cane for forgetting to take the damn rock on an exercise. _'77…78…79…_ ' A few people had finished their set and relished the break rewarded to those who finished before others. I pushed out a final 20 and rose to my feet to make the most of the fleeting recovery time. The remaining trainees were finished within the minute and Ekstrand was quick to assign the next exercise. "Fifty squats!" Except it sounded more like _'ffeftie schkvots'_ and personally I think that the accent made the entire exercise more enjoyable. "Yuu schkvot liek mie gvandmuthzer, und hur bahk izh brokhen." "Sihevhenty sihit ops." The exercises continued until all everything hurt, and then they kept going. At 6:30 Ekstrand left us to Varley-Penrose who gave the itinerary for the next few hours, each day was different to ensure we did not get too comfortable. Though I doubt anyone could get too comfortable in this situation. "Twelves, tens and threes have mess. "Nines, sevens and sixes are meeting at the heli-pad for off site vehicle training. Twos and fives have theory work. Dissmissed." "A few numbers are missing." I whispered to Simon as he walked past. "Some guys started in a different area, with a current training focus on other aspects of the job that can't be properly practised in a jungle environment, heli-skiing maybe I don't know. We will probably meet up with them later in the course but nothing is definate here huh. Get some food Dom and we can talk later. Oh and whatever punishment I get now for being late I will inflict double on you." He blurted out before rushing to catch up with the other trainees heading towards the helicopters. The prospect of food was encouraging, meals were never certain and often were late, early, or skipped entirely depending on what the instructors saw as a priority, as a result it had been over ten hours since my last meal and it felt as though I was digesting myself. Many of the other trainees were having a similar experience and raced towards the mess hall, however I lingered behind to stretch. Rather deal with a couple extra minutes of hunger than the debilitating crystallisation of lactic acid in my system. I rolled my shoulders, touched my toes, awkwardly shoved the private down my shirt and lunged towards breakfast.

By the time I reached the semi-permanent building everyone had already been served and there was no line, though there were also no seats as the twelve trainees had claimed most of the chairs in the small room. I grabbed a bowl and headed toward the now familiar smell of what was colloquially known as 'bodyguard slop'. It was like porridges sleazy uncle who nobody knew how he was related but was always at reunions. And smelled like socks. I must admit that I have tasted more pleasant things in my life, but it was warm and wasn't actually that bad, especially when mixed with the survival-grade glucose sachets. I spooned the steaming concoction into the bowl and headed towards the only unoccupied seat. It was in a dark corner of the room flanked by a large trainee that I hadn't spoken to before. The guy had a physique that rivalled my uncles and the type of bowl cut that you would see sported by some unfortunate sod in a 90's primary school photo. I sat down. There was a sharp stab in my buttocks and I was once again reminded why zippers go on the front. I turned towards the large guy and introduced myself. "Dom." I said holding out my hand. The other trainee looked at me and shook the hand, attempting to crush the metacarpals. "Michelle." They replied in a thick French accent. _'There is no way that person has a drop of oestrogen in them'_. I was stunned and prayed that I would not regret the next words that came out of my shocked mouth. "You have two X chromosomes?" I choked. The words came out without my conscious permission. _'Shite'_. However the bo- sorry, girl chucked. "Yep unfortunately." She continued to laugh and I weakly joined in, not quite sure about what was happening. "But." She said "If you make any woman jokes I will have your balls on a plate." She looked me in the eyes dead serious as she said that and it would be a lie to say that I wasn't intimidated. We sat in silence for the next minute, Michelle glaring at me as if she was daring me to test her. She then burst out laughing again and slapped me on the shoulder while I questioned her mental stability. "Chill out Dom I'm only messing, but I would suggest eating breakfast before IT'S the one that chills. Oh and by the way, it's Mich to you." _Mich_ then proceeded to eat with the grace of a hippopotamus doing jazzercise and no longer acknowledged my presence. I started on my meal with considerably less gusto thinking only that the phrase 'Paint me like one of your French girls' will never have the same meaning again.

"Butler." My thoughts were interrupted by the calm and yet authoritative voice of Madame Ko. I looked up mid mouthful to see her motioning me over, which I did so without hesitation. "Madame?" I said, half questioning her half recognising her. "I wish to see the current health status of Pvt. Rock, the two of you shall report to the Medic's hut instantly." She turned and left as suddenly as she arrived and I did as I was told, not because I was a Butler but because I did not want to be reintroduced to her cane. I still had the marks of our last meeting.

The medics cabin was a plain wooden hut that was distinguished only with the signature red plus on the door. I knocked and the door opened seemingly on its own. "I am scheduled for a total physical examination of a Pvt. Rock." Exited a voice from within. I followed the voice and found myself standing in quite possibly the only well lit room on camp. The interior was furnished with collapsible stainless-steel benches and camping chairs and, of course, smelt of antiseptic. I also noticed the sound of running water in the adjacent room and contemplated how that was possible in such a remote area. _'Monkey plumbers?'_ I mused. The stream cut off and the door opened to reveal a tall slim brunette man wiping his hands with the first white towel that I had seen all month. Where the physique of most instructors here said 'I will put you in a choke hold and flex until your head pops off' This man's stated 'I will kill you swiftly, precisely and induce the maximum amount of pain as it happens'. From my positon the only way I would be able to overpower him was if I were first to one of the many sharp instruments clearly displayed around the room. Not that I should need to. "You don't look much like a private Rock." He said rather bluntly. "He's here sir." I replied while retrieving the granite from his usual spot forced into my inner shirt pocket. "Nice pants." He acknowledged before addressing the rock. "Private please take a seat, I am Dr Chigrakov and you have been selected for a complete physical review, try to relax and this wont take more than a few minutes." The doctor said dryly, emphasising the ludicrousness of the situation. I placed the rock onto the indicated chair and watched as the man looked it over with a magnifying glass. "I have been told that for every blemish or chip present on the stone you are to run ten laps around the complex." He said without looking up. At that moment I was thankful for refraining from throwing the private at Kale the previous day after he went for a crotch-shot when I was balancing multiple jungle themed objects on my head whilst cleaning various forms of weaponry. "There is no place for poor posture when protecting your principal." Ko had said displaying good control over her plosives. "Seems ok." The doctor said putting the magnifying glass down. He then picked up the stethoscope and motioned towards the rock with a straight face. "No heartbeat." The doctor said. "I'm afraid to tell you that your companion is dead." To which I replied with; "No sir, he just has a heart of stone." At this remark I saw an instructor crack a smile for the first time, albeit a wry cynical one. "Standard procedure is that this examination takes fifteen minutes so we have some time to kill. Coffee, Butler?" Before I had replied the man produced two cups and and some hot water, he then proceeded to surprise me even more when delicate tea cakes were presented, and although I remained stoic on the outside I was a curious mixture of guffaws and alarm within. Even so I gratefully helped myself to a custard tart. "Oh and I wouldn't eat too much if I were you." He informed me. "You have evasive driving after this."

 _Time lapse…One month later_

Today started out as any other. Even though we had shaped up the tent in our spare time light still flooded through waking us in the morning. PT was run by Ko herself and was just as painful as it had been the last thirty-seven times. I had combat practise with Kale immediately after, which finished with bruises and bloody noses for both of us and then we visually shot daggers at each other through breakfast. However today is not continuing the way that I had grown used to (or as used to you could get when people are teaching you to prepare for the unexpected), namely the sudden and unexplained call into Ko's hut. I entered without knocking as I was expected and saw the room was already occupied by Madame Ko and Dr. Chigrakov. "Madame." I simply stated, alerting her of my arrival. Unnecessarily of course, even if she hadn't of summoned me Madame Ko would know I was coming before I knew myself. "Good Butler, I would like to evaluate the current status of Pvt. Rock." I didn't need further instruction and passed the stone to her. "Doctor Chigrakov, how is this trainee faring?." Swiftly giving the stone to the man creating a rather dull game of hot potato. He inspected the stone again with a magnifying glass. "The rock is in good health." He said after a while, seemingly daring me to laugh with that comment. "Congratulations Butler." Ko started "You have just passed your basic exam by keeping your principal in good health for the duration of the job and as a result have been promoted." She had continued, now holding a new chain out towards me. Similar to the one around my neck but indented in the thin metal was XI, the roman numerals for 11. I took it from her hand and slipped it over my head with a nod of thanks then stood, unsure if I was to stay or get out of her sight immediately. The incorrect choice could prove to be fairly painful. "Everyone is rendezvousing at the central meeting point to embark to an unspecified area via the jeeps and I would _highly_ recommend that you are not late." She said, answering my question that she probably heard psychically with whatever magic powers she had that allowed her to read minds, anticipate any circumstances and inflict pain without remorse. I went to pick up the rock again as I left but was interrupted. "It is no longer necessary for you to chaperone Pvt. Rock. He has fired you." Ko said and her bland way of addressing a rock in such a manner has made me believe she either has no sense of humour or deeper mental issues that need to be addressed. I left the hut feeling slightly off, I was so used to carrying the rock around that it seemed strange to go somewhere without it or the threat of punishment for not having it _. 'That's fine though.'_ I thought. _'Things will be much more peaceful at night without the bastard snoring.'_

The central meeting point is pretty self explanatory, it's a meeting point in the centre of the clearing funnily enough, and as Ko had said the entire camp was getting into the four wheel drives that instructors preferred to use while we acolytes ran ungodly distances. Instead this time it was everyone who were getting into the vehicles. I sat in the car at the rear of the convoy between Simon and Mich who had gotten into a heated debate over an 'I spy' game gone wrong. "There is no way that you saw an aye-aye. It's the middle of the day!" "Oh yeah? Well at least I didn't think there were tigers in the amazon!" Their argument turned into background noise as I tried to enjoy the sensation of travelling without carrying most of my bodyweight in a backpack or seeing how many blisters can form in 10km. Although, relaxing was hard when all I could think about was the motive of the instructor driving the jeep.

The ride was rather short and within the hour we had slowed to a stop. The trees had thinned to reveal a long and well manicured field with a couple of sleek and expensive looking jets at one end. "I want everyone in the jets promptly without hassle." The voice of a megaphoned Ko rang out. But my body refused to move, too stunned by the prospect of getting into the glamour of one of the Bombardier Global Express'. "Get a move on." Christian Varley-Penrose said to me as he hopped out of the driver's seat, at the look on my dumbfounded face he said; "Well there is no point doing all of your training here, how many of your potential charges do you think will live out in remote bush?"

And that's that. Let me know how you feel about this narration style, should I use it for some other chapters or stick to the tried and true 3rd POV?

1: PT commonly stands for Physical Training (among other things)

2: Yes that is a reference to The Atlantis Complex

3: A Phalanx is a rectangular military formation popularised by ancient romans

Oh and random thought of the chapter: Who do you think would win in a fight between Butler and Batman? Please humour the strange musings of a seventeen-year-old and let me know your thoughts. I think batman would win every time but no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't be able to even lay a finger on any Fowls.


End file.
